“Well den, I guess I will only be thirty when dey ax me.”
“What's your name?” said Pompey, addressing himself to another.
“Jeems.”
“Oh! Uncle Jim, is it?” “Yes.”
“Den you must have all them gray whiskers shaved off, and all dem gray hairs plucked out of your head.” This was all said by Pompey in a manner which showed that he knew what he was about.
“How old is you?” asked Pompey of a tall, strong-looking man. “What's your name?”
“I am twenty-nine years old, and my name is Tobias, but they calls me Toby.”
“Well, Toby, or Mr. Tobias, if dat will suit you better, you are now twenty-three years old; dat's all,—do you understand dat?”
“Yes,” replied Toby.
Pompey now gave them all to understand how old they were to be when asked by persons who were likely to purchase, and then went and reported to his master that the old boys were all right.